


the sky isn't as grey when i'm with you

by OOPlank



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Slight Angst, George and Wilbur are best friends, George is a scientist, Immortal dream, Immortality, M/M, Niki and Wilbur are dating, No Smut, Probably some mentions of sex though, Time Travel, Wilbur is a barista, but I didn't want to make it a coffee shop au, dreamnotfound, not a whole lot thankfully, sapnap is mentioned, slowburn, this kinda revolves around a coffee shop, time traveler George, time traveller x immortal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OOPlank/pseuds/OOPlank
Summary: George works at a laboratory, where men and women come together to brainstorm ideas and put together inventions. One day, he brings up the topic of time travel, and his idea was shut down immediately. They had barely gotten a grasp on the concept of travelling through a space within half a second, how were they supposed to handle time travel?George took it upon himself to work on this. It took him months upon years-- already taking less time compared to scientists who didn't have their equipment. Eventually, he ended up with a time travelling machine that came in the form of a wrist watch. He finds out it works, and he's beyond stoked.While travelling back in time, he meets a man who is cursed/blessed with the trope of immortality. George visits him every day, each day being a year apart. He becomes attached to the man, and attached to the watch. He becomes selfish. That selfishness leads to problems in his correct time, which triggers a domino effect of events.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	1. 19-Funny Number

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first ao3 post ever lol. I originally started uploading this on Wattpad (my username is b3atmym3at) but my friend told me I should upload here to get more recognition :). I'll be adding trigger warnings in the beginning of chapters, based off of whatever I think can be triggering to some people. I apologize if some things I don't warn are triggering to you however.
> 
> tw// implied attempt of punching towards the end. small mention though.

Everyone told him it would never work.

They'd say, _"Time travelling is science fiction. Fiction, George."_

Not so fictional now, is it?

The streets of London were always crowded during the day, not so much at night. He knew where he had to go, so he payed no attention to the freezing air hitting his face. His only priority was getting there on time.

George was going to be the first person to time travel with proof. There was a lot of conspiracies about celebrities time travelling, but they were conspiracies. They weren't proven to be true.

It was a machine disguised as a watch. A simple disguise, but not so simple to create. George had figured out all possible problems and solutions to those problems. The watch had three layers: The date, the time, and how long he'd stay.

Today was the 14th of December, 2019. George was going back to the 14th of December, 1969--50 years into the past. The only difference was the time he would be put into, noon. A twelve hour difference.

London was a lot colder at midnight. The air also seemed fresher, since there wasn't too many cars that polluted the air with smog. George had a suit on, which would help him blend in to the crowd of a busy day in 1969. He was still cold, since the only other layer of clothing was a dark blazer that matched his 

He deprived his attention from the concrete, looking up and finally seeing the alleyway he had mentally marked down. George had to be a bit sneaky with this whole operation, hence why he chose the unappealing spot. If he wanted to time travel, he couldn't mess with anything in the past, and if he magically appeared in front of someone, they'd loose their shit. George couldn't let that happen, he couldn't let word get around. w

The alleyway was quiet, dark, and colder. There were puddles as well. Was it water, or some other fluid, he didn't care.

He finally stopped walking, standing in the middle of the eerie alley. George let out a shaky breath, looking down at the watch. He turned each individual dial to the numbers he had memorized.

 _14.12_ _.1969, 12:00:00PM, 01:00:00._

George bit the inside of his cheek, making sure everything was correct. Once he had triple checked, he clicked the watch shut. There was a button on the side he would have to press, that would activate the machine.

His hands were awfully shaky, and he had barely noticed. George took a deep breath as an attempt to calm himself.

_Three, two, one._

He pressed the button, and shut his eyes.

Nothing happened for a second, then he felt the air around him begin to get warmer. Through closed eyes, he could see vibrant blue light shining on him.

He began to feel weightless. Much like how you would feel when going down a big drop on a roller coaster, or downhill in a fast car. He made the mistake of opening his eyes for a second, and swore he almost blinded himself. He made a mental note: _Keep your eyes closed._

He felt like 5 seconds had passed, when in reality, he had gone back 50 years. Does that count as time passing?

The weight came back to him. It seemed to be too grand of a change, because he fell forward, landing in the same alleyway.

He could spot a few differences already.

It was day time, for one. The alleyway was a lot cleaner, and dryer. There were also two people smoking, but he wasn't worried about their reactions. Drugs messed with the mind, no one would believe them if they told anyone.

George stood up, dusting off his pants and hands. He looked down at his watch, and there was a countdown.

_00:59:50s._

"It actually worked.." He breathed out, then a huge grin broke out on his face. "It worked!"

The druggies gave him a look, but they ignored him right after.

George calmed himself down, fixing his tie. He had to look like a normal person from the 60s, and not some cracked out teenager (which he very much wasn't.)

He walked out of the alley, a smile on his face. He gained weird looks from people, who probably wondered if what a man in a suit was just doing in a drug alley. George didn't care much about these looks, he was too happy to care.

He took another deep breath. The air was far less polluted. This is probably the cleanest air he had ever been in.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" George tapped the shoulder of a young woman, who had a man on her arm. She turned, a sweet smile on her face. He smiled back, "I'm a bit new here. Is there somewhere I can get a coffee at?"

Instead of the woman replying, the man nodded. "Down the street that way," He pointed behind George, "Enjoy your stay in London!" He grinned, and George nodded with the same smile he had.

He parted ways with the couple, making his way to the coffee shop. He had a feeling he knew what the restaurant was. Back in 2019, he always went to a coffee place that had been established in the 60s.

His assumption was correct. The coffee/donut shop was new, and there was a fresh paint coat on the overhang and door.

The sign read: _Gold's Donuts and Coffee._

Generic, of course. In 2019, he had a friend who worked here. He was actually related to the founder, being his great grandson.

George walked inside, a bell ringing. Bickering was heard, then a lanky man walked out from the kitchen where the donuts were made.

He looked exactly like his friend. Or was it the other way around?

The man had brown, curly hair. Pale skin, and a flat cap, in place of the beanie he was used to seeing.

"Good afternoon! I'm William, can I get you started with a coffee?" The man asked, setting his elbows on the counter with a notepad and pen in his hands.

So that's who he was named after.

"Yes, please." That was all he could say, still in shock of the resemblance.

William noticed the look from George, and he rose a brow in confusion. "Get your jaw off the floor. What's up with you?" He heard a yell from the kitchen, telling him off for being pushy.

"It's nothing," George shook his head, dismissing the initial shock he just had. "You just remind me of a friend from back home." George stated, as Will wrote down something on the notepad.

"Yeah? Is he as handsome as I am, too?"

"Definitely not as narcissistic as you are." George scoffed.

"I take pride in that." Will smiled, causing George to smile back. "Just a coffee?" George nodded, pulling out his wallet to pay for the cup.

Once he had paid, George went to sit at an empty table. He checked his watch, seeing how much time he had left.

_00:38:34s._

Had he really spend 12 minutes walking around? It hadn't felt that long. Whatever, he had plenty of time! He wasn't entirely sure where to go next, though.

It took around two minutes for the coffee to brew. Once it had finished, William called his order number. George thanked him, turning on his heel to walk out.

He found himself checking the watch again, almost anxiously. He had never tested this on anything, so he wasn't sure if it would work and send him back home safely.

George didn't look up fast enough. Before he knew it, he bumped into a man, spilling hot coffee on both of their chests and his own hands.

Both of them stood in shock, George more in pain and positive the coffee would leave burn marks.

The man's eyes were wide open, but soon narrowed once he made eye contact. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

George was still in shock. Sure, he was used to being yelled at. Not because of a coffee spill, though. The man also had an American accent, which he found odd, but he didn't linger on that thought.

"I-I'm sorry! I was checking the time, and-"

"An apology isn't going to magically clean the coffee! This shit's hot as-"

"I don't think you should be using profanity in a coffee shop.." George mumbled, and the man didn't pay attention to him.

"You'll pay for this. I don't care if it's in money or not, but you'll pay." The man had pure rage and pain in his eyes, and George couldn't blame him. The coffee _was_ hot as shit. He saw a hand raise up, closing into a fist.

Uh oh. Now was the time to run, wasn't it?

George had dealt with angry men before. But that was in a much more civilized environment, not a coffee shop in the late 60s. So instead of talking, he dove under the mans arm, pushing the door open and running.

He heard yelling from the man, but it soon died out. He didn't look behind him, to avoid running into people.

George ran for what seemed to be ten minutes. He ran until he was at a park, which was cleaner than he was used to.

He always visited this park. It was quiet, and he could brainstorm ideas.

He found a park bench, sitting down on one end. He then reached inside his blazer, pulling out a small pocket-notebook and a pen. He flipped it to the first page, which was blank.

_It worked. I'm in the 60s, just like I planned. The coffee shop is still here, along with most the buildings. My apartment building hasn't been built yet, since it was established in the 80s. The air is much better here. The sky is clearer._

He left it at that.


	2. Stubborn, Stubborn Man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After George's visit to 1969, he visits his friend in his current time-- 2019. Will works at Gold's Coffee and Donuts, taking the job as a family tradition that began with his great-great grandfather, who he was named after.
> 
> George tells his friend about his journey back in time. Will doesn't believe him.

Was it all a dream?

Time travel was fiction. It had to have been a dream.

The weightless sensation lingered in the young man's head. He enjoyed that feeling-- the feeling of not entirely existing in a physical world, as depressing as it sounds. It made him think about what being a ghost might feel like, despite him not having a sense of belief towards that type of stuff. He didn't believe in any supernatural conspiracies that had been made up by religious folk.

Then again, time travelling was a supernatural conspiracy. He sure as hell believed in that.

The feeling of cloth stuck to his skin. Suffocating. George felt like he would melt under his comforter, but it also provided a sense of security, hence why he didn't kick the blanket off of him.

He didn't want to wake up, but it was too difficult to fall back asleep. He was stuck in the uncomfortable in-between, and with help from his obnoxious phone alarm, he ended up forcing himself to open his eyes. His room was dark, and he silently thanked himself for closing the curtains before he went to sleep hours ago.

What time was it? He remembered going to sleep sometime past midnight, and he was eternally grateful for choosing a Friday night to sleep late. His clock read 10 am, which would usually be four hours into a workday. Fortunately, he didn't work weekends due to personal request. He spent Saturdays with his friend, William, who worked at a coffee shop. The same coffee shop from his time-travel adventure.

Wait, was it even real?

There had to be _some_ proof. George kicked off his comforter, looking around his room to find the blazer he remembered wearing. It sat on the back of his computer-chair, and he caught sight of a small book hanging out of a pocket.

The young man swung his legs over the side of his mattress, stretching all his limbs which were painfully sore. He stood, walking over to the blazer and picking the notebook out of the pocket. George opened the curtains, squinting from the sudden flood of light. He brought a hand above his eyes, temporarily shielding the sun. George flipped open the book, noticing his rushed handwriting. 

This was enough proof for him. He felt his face warm up, and a smile sprouted. He actually did it, he managed to create a machine that successfully and painlessly sent him back in time, then back to the present. He was a genius!

He knew this wasn't nearly enough proof. He had to bring back something physical, not a handwritten note. 

\---

An hour and a half later, he found himself walking into a small establishment he always visited.

_Gold's Donuts and Coffee._

His best friend, Will, worked here.

There were a lot of differences when comparing the current shop and 50-years-ago shop. In 2019, the place hadn't been repainted for years. It seemed a lot grayer, like all the color and life had been sucked from it.

George took his hands out of his pockets, thankful for the heating system inside the establishment. The sound of the doorbell faded, and he was met with the voice of a man, greeting him.

"George, welcome!"

He stood on the opposite end of the counter, and George had a slight sense of deja vu.

He didn't exactly realize how much he looked like his grandfather. There were subtle differences, like his height and face shape, but other than that, he was an exact replica.

And of course, the beanie on top of his curly hair.

"Good morning, Will. I'll just have the usual," George reached into his pocket, the exact amount of money already prepared. He handed it over, and Will put it into the register.

"How's work been for you? We have a whole week of catching up, so let's get to it." The lanky man took a cup away from the stack by the coffee maker, and he began brewing the drink.

How's work been? In all honesty, George hadn't been keeping up with the environment at his job. He always locked himself in his own small, crowded lab, working on the wrist watch he now kept with him at all times. He debated against telling his dearest friend about his achievement-- would he even believe him?

There was only one way to find out.

"Work's been great. Amazing, splendid." He stalled, causing Will to scoff.

"That's new. What makes it so great?"

God, how would he even describe it?

"Will, you're good at keeping secrets, right?" George asked, as he walked over to the counter where his drink would sit. He saw his friend nod, and he took a deep breath. "I went back in time. Fifty years, Will! I went back to the 60s!" He let his excitement get the best of him, pumping a fist into the air.

William was fully aware of George's job. They had been best friends for a while, so it only made sense for them to tell each other everything. Will was also aware of the difficulties that followed George's job. Time travel was an incredibly difficult concept to grasp. How could one man figure it out by himself?

"You're lying. You're a stone-cold liar, there's no way you _actually_ did it." Will put a lid over the cup, sliding it over to George and leaning on the counter. "No, you probably dreamt about it or something. You've gotta stop thinking about it so much, otherwise shit like this will happen."

George rolled his eyes as he took the cup of coffee in his hands. "I swear to you, I went back in time, William. I came to this exact shop, 50 years ago. I met your great-grandpa, for Christ's sake! He looked like you! He even wore a stupid hat."

"There's a literal picture of him on the side of the building, George." Will sighed, fixing the beanie on his head. "Sure, you might've gone there-- in a dream. There's no way it's real, and I'll stand by that until there's more evidence."

George groaned in annoyance. "You're stubborn as hell, y'know." He followed his friend from the opposite side of the counter, ignoring the fact he was going to the kitchen to get donuts out the oven. "He was really full of himself!" No response. "I also spilled coffee all over my hands and some random guy. Could've ended up with a black eye, or something." 

George ended up staying at the coffee shop for the whole day. There weren't many customers, so Will closed shop early. They agreed on spending time together on weekends, and they did so by playing video games at George's house. Once it reached a certain hour of the night, Will ended up leaving due to personal reasons (he had a date, that's all). George was left alone, in his small yet homey apartment. 

\---

The clock read just over a quarter past ten. The building had fallen silent, not including his loud neighbors performing activities George didn't have time to care for. The aforementioned sat at his desk, his wrist watch sitting on the wood table as he examined it, carefully flipping through the three separate layers.

He wondered what he could possibly do at this time. He couldn't sleep, due to his neighbors and his brain being hyperactive for some reason. He knew he shouldn't use the watch, he shouldn't go back. Not yet, at least.

There was a certain thrill about going back, though. Let it be the weightless feeling, or the idea of being somewhere he didn't belong. The pure adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he landed in the drug alley, or when he was getting chased by the man.

God, he hadn't even thought about the man.

He felt nothing but pure freight and anger towards the unnamed man. There was no reason for him to threaten George. He had a right to be angry, of course, but raising a fist at someone for a simple mistake seemed incredibly irresponsible. 

George decided he didn't like that man.

He didn't like a lot of people. There was evidence proving he was prone to holding grudges for long periods of time. 

Why was he even thinking about this man? He shouldn't waste his energy on him, he had more important things to think about, such as his plan for his next visit back in time.

Where would he even go? _When_ would he even end up travelling back to?

George ran a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. He ended up pulling out a notebook from his drawer, and powering on his computer. He'd spend all night, working until dawn, trying to get everything perfect. He had to think about everything that could go wrong, and every solution to every problem. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to leave comments. kudos are much appreciated, along with comments :)). thank you for the positive messages on the last chapter as well, they really made me happy considering I don't often get good recognition on my work (other than my IRLs).


	3. Hot Cocoa and a Pastry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours of contemplation, George makes up his mind and travels back to the past. He travels back 49 years, one less from his previous trip, putting him in the 70s. While he's there, he revisits past-Will, and meets someone who he would much rather not see. However, he learns that this person isn't all bad.

Four hours and a lot of paper-space had been wasted.

George couldn't draft a single idea, despite his mind picturing bundles of plans. He sat in his desk chair at 5 in the morning. It was still dark, and the sky was illuminating the faintest shade of blue.

He liked the color blue. It was a basic favorite, and he did mainly say it because it appeared most vibrant to him. George over-analyzed a lot of things though, including colors. Blue had a lot of different connotations-- some people tied it to a sad feeling, while other people tied it to a clear sky in the middle of the day. Personally, he enjoyed it because of emotional associations. Will had always told him a folk lore about the color blue. He'd say, _"Whenever you feel sad, George, you hold something blue. Let it be a crystal, a blanket, anything. It doesn't make sense, but holding a blue thing sort of.. makes you a bit happier? No, it just lets you forget about the sad feeling."_ George always told him the story didn't make sense, but afterwards, he noticed everything that had a blue color to it. He would sit at aquariums, looking for fish that had blue on them. He would stay up until the early morning, much like now, where the sky was a faint blue and it lit up the entire room.

The rolling of a pencil broke him from his trance. George remembered what he had been doing for the last four hours, and he immediately became deprived of motivation.

Who would ever care about him having no plan? Maybe George-from-tomorrow, but definitely not George now.

He found himself scrambling to gather nice clothes, his body suddenly in auto-pilot. It might be stupid, diving in without any ideas once again, but he didn't give a single shit.

Coffee sounded great, as well. Perhaps he'd stop by the donut shop in the 70s, hopefully avoiding the man he had spilled coffee on. He also prayed the coffee developed a better taste. Usually he loved the way Will made coffee-- in 2019. The coffee from the 60s wasn't nearly as good in his opinion. It had tasted far too watery, heavily dismissing the bitterness and flavor of a regular black coffee.

Eventually, George wound up walking outside his apartment building. He was looking down at the wrist watch, adjusting the size while occasionally glancing up to make sure he didn't bump into anyone or anything.

It was still cold out, much like the previous night of George's travels. The cold air felt like needles on his skin, his breath providing the slightest bit of warmth on his face. He let muscle memory take control in regards to location, and soon enough he was standing in the middle of the alleyway he disliked yet needed.

The wrist watch had been set to the correct time and date by now. It read: _14.12.70 12:00:00 PM._ He only bothered double checking, and as soon as he finished, the watch layers clicked together. George pressed the button on the side, then closed his eyes.

The feeling returned to him, and he enjoyed it. The experience was over in a flash, however, bringing him stumbling in the alleyway in the 70s. He knew he'd have to begin researching effects of the weightlessness. He'd need to figure out if the time in between travels became shorter, or if it was a mind trick. It'd be impossible to figure out with tools, though.

The alley was empty this time, giving George a minute to think. This all felt rushed and unprofessional, far from his attitude towards his everyday work. Maybe it was the sense of accomplishment still running through his body causing him to act like this.

Once he had recomposed himself, he made his way out of the alleyway. He was dressed in the suit, once again, and he got weird looks from people walking by. He wanted to remain professional, but he made the mistake of realizing how sketchy it seemed in this environment of colorful clothing.

George soon found himself in front of the donut shop. There were more customers than he had ever seen in the past few years, and it put a smile on his face. Business was booming, alright.

He walked inside, the bell ringing and bringing a few peoples' attention to him. George did a shy two-finger wave, walking to the counter where the original William Gold stood.

He looked different. The curly hair had been cut far too short for George's liking, and he also had a decent amount of facial hair. His facial expression was also much different than a year ago. He seemed like he had aged years, becoming more mature, making George wonder what had happened since his last visit.

"'Afternoon, sir. How can I help you?" The man behind the counter spoke, a smile beaming on his face despite his confusion from George's staring. The questioned man cleared his throat, returning the smile.

"I-uh.. Sorry." He mentally cursed himself. "Sorry, I'll just have a coffee."

The barista nodded, writing it down. He went to begin brewing the drink, giving George a moment of thought. Sure, it'd be nice to communicate with William Gold. Perhaps he would bring up his visit from a year ago. Then again, there was a high chance William had forgotten all about the experience.

A few orders had been called out, and George felt anxiety pool in his stomach. He wasn't good at talking to people. He was good at coding and science (and collecting comic books, which heavily inspired his time travelling obsession). Before he knew it, his order had been called by William.

George walked to the counter where his drink would be, his anxiety spiking once he saw the barista. God, what would he even say? Would he even say anything?

"That watch is nice. Where'd ya get it?"

He was thankful for the conversation starter. George looked down at his wrist, realizing the watch did, in fact, stand out quite a bit. He cracked a smile.

"Thanks. I.. made it. About a year ago, actually."

"Really? Where do you work? My wife has been wanting a watch, and with the holidays right around the corner.." William chuckled, capping the drink and sliding it over to George.

"I actually don't live here," It wasn't an entire lie. "I live hours away. I've decided to take annual vacations to London though, starting last year."

George could see the realization on Will's face. He seemed to stumble over his own words, "You came here a year ago? You're the kid who spilled coffee on my daily!" He laughed, sending George into a state of embarrassment.

"Okay, first off, I'm twenty-three."

"You've got the face of a teenager."

George sighed, "Sure, whatever. Second off, he was a daily customer?"

Will nodded, grabbing a towel from under the counter so he could wipe off crumbs. "He still is. Usually comes in 'round this time, too."

Oh, he was eternally fucked over.

Of course there was the possibility of the daily customer completely forgetting the occasion, or simply forgiving him. George was positive he couldn't handle anymore confrontation. He would much rather be in a park, admiring plants that aren't dead and grey.

He heard the faint noise of the doorbell, and Will said something along the lines of _Speak of the devil._ George turned, watching as the barista took a step to the front. The customer was in fact his greatest nightmare at the moment. God, he hated how he recognized most people based on bad experiences that occurred with them.

He stood in the same spot, listening to how the man interacted with Will. He sounded so much more calm, and there was a kind smile on his face. He had dirty blonde hair, and he was taller than George. He wore a suit, much like every other man in sight. George had been staring for a bit too long, and he looked away a second late. The man had glanced over at him, a smile still on his face.

He had to get out.

But where would he even go?

It was too late to think about that. The man was walking over to him. He might've been overthinking-- perhaps the man was simply coming over to the counter to wait for his drink. The odds were against George however, and the man stopped in front of him, greeting him.

"Hey. Will told me who you were."

There was nothing worse that could've been said.

"He did?" The man nodded, and George groaned out of annoyance. "Isn't that a violation of some sort? Workers aren't supposed to put out information on their customers, that's illegal!" He rambled on, and the man laughed lightly.

"I could care less about legalities-" The man started.

"I care a shit ton."

"Laws are stupid. They're just a morality tester."

George would've broken out into words upon words, arguing with the man on that topic. But to be fair, he was technically going against a rule of his job. He sighed, "You're correct on that one, but don't go around saying it too much."

The man laughed again, and George smiled this time.

"What's your name? You seem like someone I can get along with."

He would've said his name if this was a normal situation. But it wasn't normal. George didn't belong in this year, it'd be selfish of him to risk messing up an entire timeline because of a simple mistake. Thoughts driven by paranoia filled his head. He didn't understand why he was anxious. Sure, the guy _was_ fairly attractive, so there was the chance of George being nervous because of some guy. He didn't dwell on that idea for long.

"Is it George?" The man looked at the coffee cup in the hand of the aforementioned, where his name had been written in Will's handwriting with a fine-tip marker.

George nodded, "Yeah, that's my name." He sighed in annoyance of himself, "Sorry, I don't do to well when it comes to actually talking to people."

He made a face, "You seem to be a natural at it. I could be wrong, though."

George nodded, "You are."

They stood there in silence, for about 10 awkward seconds. The thing that brought them out of the odd feeling was Will's voice.

"Order for Clay," Will used a quieter voice compared to the other times he had called out orders, not wanting to startle the two. The man reached out, and George could only assume _Clay_ was his name.

"You two seem to be getting along well," Will started, handing Clay a coffee cup and a pastry. "Maybe you should come around more often, George. There aren't many occasions where he's got this big of a smile on his face."

Clay laughed at that, "C'mon now. Today's just a better day in general. Wouldn't have made a difference if I officially met George or not." He took a sip of his drink.

George scoffed, "Wouldn't have made a difference, _Clay_?" 

It felt weird associating the name to the face now. George hadn't been calling him anything in particular in his mind (except for asswipe), so at least he had something better to call him.

Will laughed lightly at George's emphasis on the name, "I'm not complaining. At least coffee isn't spilled on the floor." This made George turn red from embarrassment, Clay laughing at him.

George rolled his eyes, then checked his watch. There was half an hour left, and he didn't want to spend his whole trip in the coffee shop. He cleared his throat, "I've- uh- I've gotta go."

Clay smiled, "Great, I'll come with you."

George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Why?"

The taller man shrugged, "Seems interesting. I'd like to get to know you more."

George tried coming up with an excuse to why Clay couldn't tag along, but the man was already nudging him, telling him to get going.

They exited the coffee shop, George walking down the street to the park and Clay following.

His presence was calming in a way. He reminded George of a dog. Clay was very social-- mean at first, but still social.

"You're not from London, are you?" George asked once they were in a less crowded area. "I've never met anyone around here with the name Clay."

The aforementioned pursed his lips, "I don't like when people call me that." 

George took a sip from his coffee, which had gotten rather cold. "What nicknames do you have?"

They passed by the park entrance, the taller man becoming more interested in flower bushes. He continued the conversation, still. "My friend called me Dream." He could hear George hold back a laugh. "I had a whole phase where I would write down my dreams into a journal. He would call me _Dreamy,_ but it sounded too flirtatious. So, Dream stuck."

"I only asked for a nickname, not your tragic backstory." George laughed, and so did the man he got comfortable with. "So you want me to call you Dream?" He nodded.

They walked until George saw the bench he sat on during his previous visit. He gestured for Dream to follow, and they sat next to each other.

"Where's that friend now?"

He shrugged, "We don't talk often." 

They stayed at the park bench for twenty minutes. The majority of it was Dream talking about his experiences with Will. He found out they weren't as close, compared to George and 2019-Will. When George's watch hit the seven minute mark, he decided he best excuse himself. 

He told Dream he'd be back next year, feeding into his yearly-trip white lie. The taller man nodded, telling him he couldn't wait. George smiled at that, then started making his way back to the alley he started off in.

The walk back had taken longer than expected. George ended up diving into a closer alley, scolding himself for not keeping track of time.

\---

The drastic change in temperature had caught him off guard.

It was practically freezing, and he turned on the heater to his apartment as soon as he locked the door.

George left the coffee cup by the sink, the contents being far too cold for his liking. He found himself at his desk, cleaning the mess of crumbled papers and reorganizing the scattered notebooks. Once he finished, he opened the blank book in front of him, uncapping his pen and letting his mind write down whatever.

On page one, he wrote about Will and the coffee shop. He decided he'd use this page for constant updates on the place, just to see when the place had started going downhill in business. He wrote about how the coffee began to taste better-- less watered down. He wrote about how well Will got along with customers, no matter how scared or angry they all looked.

On the next page, he wrote about Dream. He put down a lot, but it mainly revolved around his dog-like personality. George wrote down how Dream described how he got his nickname, and how he got a hot cocoa and a donut instead of a coffee because " _Even the smell makes me want to throw up._ "

It was 5 in the morning when he went to sleep, the comforter and mattress welcoming his presence. The heater had shut off, leaving George to snuggle into his blankets and pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i read all of your comments btw, so thank you so much for the positive messages! chapter 4 is almost done, so after that's published updates won't be as consistent :/. kudos and comments are appreciated !! :)))


	4. No Judgement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stops by George's house, greeting him with a coffee made from stress. They ride the subway, visiting Will's (girl)friend, Niki. While they're there, George realizes some things he hadn't bothered to even think about. One thing leads to another, and now impulses have taken over.

He woke up to rapid banging on his front door.

Confused and scared, George rubbed his eyes as he pulled his blanket off of him, putting on his slippers as he made his way to the door to his apartment.

He looked through the peephole, seeing the source of the noise. It was none other than Will himself, and he looked fairly pissed off.

George unlocked and opened the door, letting in the lanky man.

"Bloody hell, George! I've been standing outside for twenty minutes-- freezing my ass off, and you're in your pajamas?" He rambled, as George shut the door and went to turn on the heater again.

"Sorry! I went to sleep at like, five in the morning-"

"Are you okay?" Will asked with aggression laced in his tone, "How dense are you? Is your brain hollow?"

George let out an annoyed groan, watching as Will walked to his kitchen to make the poor man a much-needed coffee.

"Good god, George." He got a bag of ground coffee, setting it on the counter. "I'd been texting and calling you since eight in the morning. Do you know what time it is now?" He leaned against the granite countertop.

George looked over at the microwave, a wave of guilt washing over him. "Ten thirty-"

"Ten _fucking_ thirty!" Will sighed, rubbing his temples. "Whatever, it's okay. At least the heater's on." He began brewing the coffee, using George's coffee maker with ease since he had the same model at his own apartment.

George pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. He felt weird, let it be due to the fact he hadn't brushed his teeth this morning (leaving an icky feeling on his teeth), or the fact he had somewhat of a decent conversation with a stranger hours prior to this visit from Will.

It sucked, knowing he couldn't tell Will. He would never believe him, no matter how much convincing he offered. He was stubborn-- understanding, but stubborn.

George eventually excused himself to the bathroom, making a trip to his bedroom to gather clothes he would wear for their hangout. He settled on a white t-shirt, with a dark blue hoodie and some jeans. He didn't have a stylish sense of clothing, and Will would always poke fun at him because of it.

He came out of the bathroom, the faint aftertaste of mint still in his mouth. By now, a warm mug of coffee sat on the counter, Will having his own as he scrolled through Twitter and replied to messages.

"Thanks," He spoke, leaning his elbows on the granite top as he took a sip from the coffee. It was just how he liked it-- the right amount of creamer and coffee so George wouldn't get full from it, or want more than he was served. He made a face, however, forgetting he had brushed his teeth with that overly-strong mint toothpaste he accidentally bought yet had to use.

Will laughed at this, taking a drink from his own cup. His coffee was visibly sweeter, and there was less in the cup compared to George's. Will didn't do well with caffeine, and he would always get a sugar-free energy drink whenever he would stop by a convenience store.

George ended up pushing past the uncomfortable mix of flavors, and they sat for a minute or two, drinking coffee. Eventually, George broke the silence.

"How was that date?" Almost immediately, Will's face lit up, a faint blush creeping onto his face. George grinned at this, "Ah, so it went fantastically well."

"Shut up, that doesn't even make sense. Who the fuck says _fantastically well_?" Will shot back, yet he couldn't push down the smile he had at the thought of the girl he spent time with. "It _did_ go well. Great, even. We sung Hamilton-"

"Nerds."

"And we played on the guitar a bit. She's got a dog, George. An akita, I believe."

"Aren't akitas huge? How tall is she?"

"You're a dickhead."

George laughed, finding it amusing how easily he could annoy Will. "Are you gonna go on a second date? Is this the beginning of a life-long relationship?"

Will playfully hit George in the side, "Shut up, you're annoying." He smiled.

They stood at the counter for a bit, finishing their coffee while cracking jokes. Will had asked George if he was willing to meet the girl he went on a date with-- Niki. George had agreed, despite understanding he was definitely going to be third wheeling. After an hour from Will's arrival, they left the apartment flat and began their walk to the subway.

George always felt like the subway was a bad place. Maybe it was rats that would scurry behind a poster board, or the poster board itself that had a Suicide Awareness paper pasted on it. Will mentioned the railing that had been installed to the edge of the train line-- the reasoning to their placement always made George feel uneasy, and he had soon changed the topic to something more lighthearted, like a man letting out a girlish scream at the previously mentioned rodents.

The train itself was far less unsettling. The rails stayed underground for quite a bit of the ride, but once sunlight beamed through the windows, George felt at ease. He always took the train to work, so his body had learned how to tune back in whenever his stop had been called. However, he had no idea where this _Niki_ girl lived, so he made sure not to get too distracted by buildings and cars in the road with funny-looking license plates.

The speaker above let out a single beep, then the automated voice spoke. Will nudged George with his elbow, standing while holding onto the metal pole as the train came to a stop. Once the doors were opened, the two men walked out. Will guided the other, often pointing at a different things. He'd point to a shop, explaining how he had bought something for Niki there. Or a lamp post, which he said was where he had first asked her on an official date.

George could tell Will was in love. What even defined love?

God, that's so corny. He was happy for Will, nonetheless. He'd never seen him happier-- it looked great on him. It made George wonder if he'd ever experience this same feeling, but he quickly pushed down that thought.

They now stood in front of a gray door, belonging to a gray house. Will knocked on the door, and shortly after, it opened. A woman with blonde hair greeted them, offering George a welcoming smile and Will a smile of pure happiness.

"Niki!" Will said with excitement, and she laughed at his playfulness. Will gestured to George, who waved awkwardly. "This is my friend, George."

Niki turned to him, holding out her hand and shaking his. "It's so nice to meet you!"

She had an accent, and he couldn't quite place his finger on it. It was from somewhere within Europe, for sure. He'd have to ask later, once he got more comfortable in the new environment.

She let the two inside, Will gesturing for George to follow him to the living room. He was anxious as all hell, making sure he didn't mess up anything when sitting on the couch Will told him to sit on. Niki had previously excused herself to the kitchen to grab something, and she shortly returned with a tray of crackers and varieties of cheese.

She sat on a chair on the other side of the coffee table. George reached for a slice of cheese and a cracker, and Will decided to start up conversation.

"George is a huge fucking nerd, Niki."

The mentioned man shot a look at Will-- one that strongly radiated _"What the fuck?"_ energy.

Niki laughed at the ice-breaker, "I'm sure he's not a huge nerd. What do you do for fun, George?" She looked at him, as he was about to shove a saltine cracker into his mouth.

"I, uh, read comic books. I work on coding stuff, too." He saw Niki hold back a laugh, as well as Will. "Will's right," He said, and they all laughed at that.

The three of them sat and talked for a while. George had been snacking off of the crackers, Will and Niki eventually joining in. They talked about different topics within the next hour or two, ranging from Hamilton to DC Universe. Her room mate had come downstairs at some point, whether it be for a snack or to hangout for a bit with the other three. Niki showed them some of her artwork, to which Will joked and said he could draw better. Of course, he ended up drawing a stick-figure doing God knows what. 

In the third hour of their hangout, they began talking about nostalgic things. Niki revealed she was from Germany, which made sense to George now.

"Funny enough," She began, after controlling her laughter. "I met Will at the coffee place he works at." George noticed how the aforementioned began to smile, his face lighting up. "He actually spilled my coffee all over the counter," Niki added, causing Will to cover his face from embarrassment as the two of them laughed at the memory.

"I met Will in high school. Not in a clumsy way, he didn't spill anything on me." George earned a light punch to the side for that. "He needed help with math problem. It wasn't even for math class, it was for fucking Science."

"Biology, to be precise."

George shot a look at Will, "It was Chemistry, dumbass."

"It was literally Biology class, are your brain cells deteriorating? Are you growing old and dying of dementia?"

Niki started laughing at the two bickering, which made the men laugh as well. She wiped she side of her eye with her finger, tears threatening to fall from laughter. "Will told me he only had one girlfriend, who came around after high school. What about you, George?"

"Woah! Are you hitting on George now?" Will asked, playfully making his tone more aggressive. She laughed as he stood and walked to her, raising her arms to cover her face.

Will sat back on the couch, allowing George to speak. "I've only had one girlfriend, but things didn't really work out for the long run." Niki nodded in understanding, waiting as if she wanted him to continue. "Oh, no boyfriends either." Had it really been obvious? He was quite comfortable in his sexuality, not really minding if people assumed he was on one side of the spectrum or not. It always ended up catching him off guard whenever a person assumed he was attracted to men, purely based on how he looked and acted.

Niki realized how awkward the environment had gotten, and she quickly lightened the mood. "No judgement at all!" She smiled, causing George to as well. She explained how she also fell onto the spectrum of sexuality, putting a label on it and identifying as bisexual. 

Eventually the sun began to set, so Will and George said their goodbyes for the day. Will was very happy his friends ended up getting along, and George was less anxious compared to the morning. As the two walked back to the train station, their energy had been deprived, and they walked in comfortable silence.

The train ride had been much like the one before. George still looked out the window, watching the headlights of cars and scooters on the streets. He thought about many things, one thought leading to another, and now his mind was back on the topic of love. It confused him, for sure. For Will and Niki, it seemed like they had already fallen. Is that how it always works? "Love at first sight" seemed like a huge stretch, and highly unlikely. It didn't make sense to fall in love with someone you had just met.

Perhaps it'd come to him differently. George had never been one to want for a relationship, but seeing his best friend happy really made him think. It wouldn't be too bad, would it? Maybe he'd meet _the_ girl, or guy, eventually. And what if he already did? Will had made jokes earlier today, in regards to George and Niki's room mate. It was a stupid joke in George's opinion, but it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?

He decided it wouldn't matter to him anymore. He had more important things to worry about-- projects to continue. Should he even go back tonight? There were plenty of things he had to consider; how would the watch be effected? Would he even get a good night's of sleep if he decided to go out tonight? He had work tomorrow, maybe it was for the best if he didn't.

Once they were off the train, they split ways. Will went back home, and George decided going back wouldn't be too bad. He needed to perform more experiments either way, plus, he didn't mind visiting Dream again (assuming he was still a daily customer).

His apartment was cold, so he turned on the heater as he went to grab his watch and notes from his desk. Not much else went through his mind, all he knew was he _needed_ to go back. For what reason? That remained unclear to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ! I hope you enjoyed reading :). This is probably the chapter i'm most proud of at the moment lol. thank you for reading/leaving comments/kudos, they're all appreciated and read!
> 
> this is gonna be the last consistent update for a bit. i'm going to get started on the fifth chapter soon, though! :)


	5. Sleeve Tugging.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George visits London of 1971. He meets with two old friends, and realizes a few things that may change some of relationships.

Desk drawers were being opened and slammed shut, curses being muttered under his breath.

George had plenty of time, yet he felt like he was on a tight schedule either way. He had been preparing for his trip forty-eight years back, and he had almost everything ready. Last minute, however, he had this excellent idea. He obviously had to end up appealing to the first William Gold, and George happened to remember the man discussing how he wanted to buy his wife a wrist watch.

He remembered buying a watch at some point. He was originally going to give it to his mother, but she declined any and all gifts for her birthday. She forced him to keep it, insisting a future girlfriend of his would appreciate and she was thankful either way. Due to the lack of action in the man's love life however, the watch had been sitting in it's box, somewhere in his apartment. Unfortunately, the box had been lost-- pushed to the back of some drawer or cabinet as months passed. 

Eventually George found the box, at the back of his bottom nightstand drawer. A thin layer of dust was brushed off with the bottom of his shirt, and the watch itself remained clean inside of the box. George smiled to himself as he stuffed the box into his pocket, then continued to slip his blazer over his shoulders. He spent a little extra time in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure his hair wasn't too messy or too clean.

As he walked outside of his apartment building, the cold air didn't effect him. His face was warmer than usual, and he brought his cold hands to his face in an attempt to cool off. His mind remained on the idea of the watch. He was sure Will would appreciate the gift, and maybe it would lead to a closer bond between the two. George had to be careful with how much he manipulated the past, however. He couldn't do anything too drastic, anything that would risk creating a huge ripple effect in time. The temptation to do whatever he wanted was strong, but he had self control.

Thinking of a possible friendship between him and original-Will brought him to the idea of the coffee shop, and Dream. He found it funny how he was forgiven for spilling scalding hot coffee on the other man, but to be fair, it _had_ been a year prior in Dream's time. George probably wouldn't have held a grudge if he was put into the opposing side of the situation, so he didn't choose to judge Dream too harshly. Hell, maybe they'd end up closer as friends. 

Wouldn't that be something?

He wasn't sure why he felt so different about the two friendships. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with how he felt romantically, and he wouldn't decide if it was romantic or not. He'dknown the man for less than an hour, and the whole trope of "love at first sight" made him feel weird. He didn't believe in it at all, he thought it was stupid.

So why did he feel _different_ about his growing friendship with a man from the 1960's?

The stone bricks on the sidewalk began to look familiar, and he soon ended up in the alleyway he had been to for the past two nights. Puddles still littered the ground, and the sound of rats scurrying through garbage bags was heard. He made a face at the sound of their squeaks. He hated rats.

George sighed, fastening the watch on his wrist so it fit snuggly. He then proceeded to set the date he'd go back to. 1971, a year after his previous visit. He figured he'd keep this pattern, it was the easiest for him.

He found his hands shakier than usual. _Weird. Must be colder today,_ he thought. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing a distraction and putting a finger on the side-button. After a double check, and a few deep breaths, he pressed it.

That familiar blue light engulfed him, lifting him from the concrete and making his surroundings disappear. His hands felt warmer, reminding him of moments where he would go outside in a hot summer day, after spending hours inside a room with a chilling AC. It felt nice.

His shoes offered a small _clack_ as they made contact with the concrete. George opened his eyes, looking around. The alleyway wasn't any different, but it seemed everyone who walked around the city had drastically changed.

Clothing was the most noticeable change. Women wore brightly colored, patterned clothing, and a pair of red heels was often attached to the outfit. Some men had their hair grown out, past the shoulders.

George didn't fit in, at all.

He was wearing a suit. The only people he saw wearing suits were older men, with white mustaches and gray hair poking out from under their hats. He was dressing like a grandpa.

George sighed to himself, walking out of the alley and beginning his journey to the coffee shop. He noticed more changes in his usual path. A new record store had been put up, which he recognized from 2019. He actually bought a few records from there, which were now collecting dust in a box by his old record player.

The familiar pink and gold paint came into view. George liked the choice of colors, they went well together. 

The smell of baked goods flooded out of the shop as someone walked in. George smiled, noticing just how many people were in the store, and how many workers now stood behind the counter. He walked in, the smell of coffee and pastries becoming evident. 

It seemed like within a second, he had been noticed. Not by Will, though.

"George?" He heard a voice say to him, after a tap on his shoulder. He turned, eyes meeting with the man he befriended, Dream.

George smiled, "Hey. It's been a while," He said, knowing all well it hadn't been that long for himself. Dream simply nodded, a huge grin on his face. Had he really been this excited to see him?

"It's about time you're here. I've been waiting-- I couldn't sleep last night because I was so excited!" Dream, once again, reminded George of a little puppy. It was nice, comforting, knowing someone was this happy to see him.

"You've been waiting? To have a cup of coffee with me?" Dream nodded again, and George thought about it for a second too long. "We've only hung out once, a year ago. You really want to hang out with me?"

"Gosh, quit your moping, Georgie-"

"Don't call me Georgie."

"Whatever," Dream scoffed, nudging George gently. "Let's get that coffee, I'll buy for you."

And so he did. A different barista took their order, giving the two men an odd look. For a moment, George forgot he was in the 70's and not the more-accepting 2010's. He was thankful for Dream mentioning they were simply friends, and noticed the barista relax. 

Their order number was told to them. Dream lightly tugged on the sleeve of George's blazer, guiding the two of them to the side counter.

"So," The taller man started up a conversation, "How's the past year been for you?"

 _Shit,_ George thought to himself. How was he supposed to make up an entire year within a second?

"O-Oh, it's been good. Great, even. My, uh.." George glanced down to his watch, and his eyes lit up. "My watch business! It's been great."

Dream smiled, "Glad to hear. Is that all that's happened?" George nodded.

"What's happened with you?" George asked.

Dream shrugged, "Eh. Same old stuff."

"What's _same old stuff_?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because," George scoffed. "You asked me first, I gave an answer. It's only fair if you do the same."

The blond sighed dramatically, "Ah, if you insist." George rolled his eyes at the realization of the odd back and forth bickering. "I write for a news article. Been writing for some time, now. I have nothing but time, and writing has always been a passion of mine. It wasn't exactly a preferred career choice, but it works out."

They moved out of the way for a customer to grab their drink. George nodded with a small smile of understanding. He himself didn't plan on being a time traveler, yet here he was, forty eight years in the past.

"Does it pay good?" George asked, and Dream shrugged again.

"Pays enough for a house, car, and a stop by the shop every day." He leaned against the counter, then immediately backed up once another person walked by to pick up their drink. George chuckled at the awkward look on Dream's face.

Soon enough, their drinks were sat on the marbled top for them. Dream tugged on George's sleeve again, leading him to an empty and clean table. They sat across from each other, holding the warm mugs in their hands (they had ordered to-stay, something that had been established sometime within the past year). 

"How's Will been?" George asked, taking a sip from his drink and making a face from how hot it was. Dream laughed at this.

"Dummy," He muttered. "Will's been good. He's got two kids now-- twins, both are boys."

"Twin boys?" George's eyes widened. "I could hardly handle one, and he was a little cousin of mine. I can't imagine dealing with two little boys 24/7."

Dream nodded with a laugh. "The stress really shows on him, some days. I'm glad he hired more baristas. Customer service can be a bitch, I can't imagine how much damage it would've dealt on him combined with two crying babies whenever he gets home."

George frowned, then had a sudden thought. "Speaking of, where is Will?" 

"Dunno," Dream blew on his drink, then took a sip. "He's either locked in his office, or it's a late day."

The brunet hummed. "That's a shame. I brought him a gift. Technically it's for his wife-" Dream chuckled at that. "Not like _that_ ," George rolled his eyes. "Last time I visited, he complimented my watch, and he told me he planned on getting one for his wife. It's a way of establishing a friendship-- remembering things the other has told you."

"Oh really?" Dream responded, and the other nodded. "Do you remember the things I told you?"

For some reason, George smiled softly. "Of course. It's hard to forget things you tell me." He realized how flirtatious that sounded, and quickly added on. "You ramble quite a lot, and you constantly made sure I paid attention."

"Fair enough."

The two continued to talk and drink their hot beverages. George realized how strange it was, being able to get along so well with someone he had barely spent time with. They talked like old friends, despite only ever talking once prior to today. George also noticed Dream's mannerisms; how he would move his hands while he talked, and how he would tug on his sleeve whenever he wanted to bring him somewhere.

It seemed like not that much time had passed. A sudden pair of hands attached to George's shoulders, causing him to jump in his seat and turn around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

A curly haired man with a shit-eating grin stood behind him, laughing. Dream burst into a fit of wheezy laughter.

"Christ, Will!" George put a hand over his heart, acting as if his soul had been scared out of him.

"Nice to see you too, Georgie." The shop owner said the nickname in a teasing tone, earning a scold from George. Will moved to the opposite side and pulled up a chair, sitting next to his usual customer.

"Been a while," Will said, and the other man nodded.

"It has, but I'm glad to be back." George offered a friendly smile.

"I see you two have been talking. I walked in and it almost looked like you two were flirting!"

Dream scoffed at that, "Don't be ridiculous, William." He said this a bit too harshly, and noticed right after the words left his mouth. "What do you mean _almost_? I'd think it was clear we were flirting." The two erupted in laughter, George nervously joining along. Dream could only assume he wasn't used to jokes like these, as he noticed the odd look on George's face and died down his own laughter.

"We got along well. No childish bickering," The shortest of the three said this with a smile. "Dream told me you have kids now. How's that going for you?"

Will groaned in annoyance, slumping over the table. "Tiring. Don't get me wrong, I love the kids." He ran a hand through his hair, "They cry so much, though. I didn't have any younger siblings to look after-- nothing could have ever prepared me for this!"

"That sounds like a problem only you will ever complain about. I don't plan on having kids, and I'm not even sure if any women find George attractive." Dream snickered, earning a scowl from the aforementioned.

"You're a dick, y'know. You have no reason to target me. Why don't you plan on having kids, eh? Maybe women don't find _you_ attractive, prick." George shot back as he took a sip from his coffee.

The blond chuckled, "Marriage itself is too much of a commitment. Being bound to someone for life? Taking responsibility of another human being other than yourself?" He clicked his tongue, "Not for me."

Will let out a low whistle. "Sheesh, who hurt you?"

The three men continued to talk, and eventually Will had to go to his office to look over paperwork.

Once George and Dream had finished their drinks, they left the shop (after putting the barista's money tip under a mug.) George explained he had around thirty minutes left, blaming his time management on a strict cab company that would charge extra if he was even a minute late. 

They decided to walk to the park together, replicating their hangout from a year ago. George noticed Dream would tug on his sleeve and point to certain street corners, shops, or other locations, and he'd tell a short story of something that happened to him. George couldn't help but listen, intrigued by how much detail he would put into the stories, or how he would purse his lips together when he couldn't find a certain word. George would tease him for this, saying things along the lines of, "Aren't you a writer?"

"Yeah, I'm a writer." Dream rolled his eyes, tugging on George's sleeve once again as they passed the gates of the public park. "Doesn't mean I'm a walking dictionary, though."

"You're right." George rubbed his hand over his arm, feeling like there would be a permanent mark from all the times Dream repeated the action.

They found a free bench, and decided to sit there for now (even though Dream wanted to walk around and show George the different flowers.)

"Remind me now," The taller man said, as he sat on the wooden planks. "Why do you take these annual visits? Is there a relative that lives here?"

George shrugged, propping an arm on the back of the bench as he turned to face Dream. "Not sure. I thought it'd be a cool place to visit, so one day I booked a cab. That's all too it."

Dream made a face, then smirked. "Or.. you've got a secret lover!"

George's eyes widened at that, "What?!"

Dream snickered, "You're blushing!" He teased, lightly poking his side. "I'm joking, who cares if you have a secret girlfriend or not. It'd make sense, though.."

George sighed, "You're such a child. Go back to grade school, yeah?"

"What, so you really just visit London once a year because you want to?" The taller man questioned, ignoring George's insult. He simply nodded in response.

"And what if you did have someone to visit? Would you come around more often?" Dream pressed on, and George chuckled.

"Sounds to me like you're trying to get into my pants," He said, in a teasing voice.

Dream laughed at this, "Don't flatter yourself. Narcissism isn't a pretty look, Georgie."

"Don't call me that."

"Aww, is it annoying you?"

"Yes!"

"Good," Dream began laughing even harder at George's visible annoyance. 

Their jokes continued, and George began to realize just how comfortable he was around Dream. He knew this would have heavy consequences, getting attached to a friend he made during his time travel adventures. It was a stupid decision, yet he noticed he'd laughed more during this past hour than he had last week.

As George said his goodbyes to Dream and walked back to the alleyway he was beginning to dread, he started thinking more about these possible consequences. He knew Dream would age, and one day he would catch onto the fact that George didn't seem to age during his visits. It could expose this whole operation.

What happens if, theoretically, George did tell Dream about this experiment? Dream would still age. One day he'd grow old, and it wouldn't be the same.

He had to figure something out, soon. 

At least he told Dream to give Will that watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this update is about a month late LMAO. I spent hours today finishing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed :).  
> I feel like the writing is a bit scuffed, but that might be my constant self-judgement. kudos & comments are hella appreciated! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are much appreciated! I can't guarantee consistent updates after the first four chapters are reposted on here, but I'll try! I really hope whoever reads this enjoyed it. I personally think the writing is scuffed (I started this on December 14th, and my style has already improved a lot qwp), but I can promise the next few chapters are way better! :))


End file.
